


Like A Bat Out Of Hell

by grimcognito



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 20:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8117269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimcognito/pseuds/grimcognito
Summary: The world spun in slow, tilting circles and it took far too long for Junkrat to realize he was lying still on the ground. The air was thick with the crackling aftertaste of plasma blasts and gunfire, echoing with cracks and booms all around as the fight continued without him. It was all oddly muffled, like his head was full of cotton and static. He’d felt it before, the not-quite waking as he recovered from being too close to a bomb detonation. Well shit, he’d be feeling this later. If he lived till then.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to AmbulanceRobots who cheers me on and hands me more shovels just when I think I can't dig myself deeper into this fandom.

The world spun in slow, tilting circles and it took far too long for Junkrat to realize he was lying still on the ground. The air was thick with the crackling aftertaste of plasma blasts and gunfire, echoing with cracks and booms all around as the fight continued without him. It was all oddly muffled, like his head was full of cotton and static. He’d felt it before, the not-quite waking as he recovered from being too close to a bomb detonation. Well shit, he’d be feeling this later. If he lived till then. 

Close calls happened, but it was a rare occasion that he’d detonate his rip tire without making sure he was far enough not to get blown to bits along with whomever he was aiming it at. What had made him do it? Junkrat blinked unevenly up at the expanse of sky above him, where the edges of rooftops lined his vision, along with trails of smoke. Tried again and managed to get both eyelids to move in unison. That was a start. He wiggled his fingers, felt the movement in one hand and heard the creak of metal joints in the other. Whelp, his top half was in a similar mangled state as he’d started the day in, so hooray and all that. His flesh toes wiggled well enough, and there was a moment of panic when he couldn’t move his right leg until he managed to kick off a chunk of wall that had trapped it. 

Finally free, with all (ahem, most) limbs right where they should be, and his body tingling in that telltale way which mean he was going to hurt a whole hell of a lot very soon, Junkrat forced himself to his feet. He pulled it off on the third try. Still not sure what led up to this, he squinted down at the stark line of his shadow over cracked concrete and rubble, then up at the section of sky where the roof should be, then at the chunk of wall he’d apparently smashed through from the force of the detonation. 

The tingle was mostly gone, and had been replaced with a far less pleasant pain that radiated from pretty much everywhere. Each breath he took in sent sharp pains shooting up along his ribcage, and his gut and spine were both aching badly enough to throb in time with his heartbeat. He’d be pissing red for a while, but on the upside, he hadn’t vomited any blood yet. Always a plus. 

He clambered as quick as he could over the small pile of rubble, absently noting the various severity of scrapes and scratches being blown through a semi-solid wall had caused. Not great, but not the worse he’d had either. He peered around the half of the wall still standing and took in the sight of the battle below. The Talon agents must have assumed he’d died, or was out for the count, after taking as much of the blast as he had. Clearly they weren’t familiar with Junkers, and their refusal to die when someone wanted them to. Junkrat chuckled at the thought, then winced at the pain it caused. 

His answers had to be there somewhere. He dragged the back of his left hand across his face and blinked a few times to get his eyes to focus. There was the transport. He remembered seeing it heading in for a landing. Below him, about halfway between where he’d landed and the transport, was the cratered ruins his rip tire had left behind. He admired the aftermath for a moment, a real beauty of a sight, really. There were scrapped and mangled remains of a gatling gun, the metal still an orange-red with heat, and at the sight, everything came back in a rush. 

A team of agents had been hidden behind a half wall, aiming to take down the transport before it could land, which would cripple Overwatch’s mission. Their payload of supplies and all the team members getting it to the transport would be stranded and easily surrounded. Roadhog was on that team, along with McCree and Tracer. Short on numbers with multiple missions, Lucio and Hana were in charge of the transport so medical needs and cover fire would be available if needed. It left the payload team without medical aid on the ground and the transport team with only one heavy hitter who was occupied with piloting. Talon seemed to know it, and were ready to take them down. What they hadn’t accounted for was Junkrat scouting in the buildings and catching sight of them. 

His smaller bombs wouldn't take them all out, and the gun only needed one person to function, which meant he’d had to take them all out, and fast. With the buildings so cramped together, there had been nowhere to go, and despite his good aim, the rip tire clipped the building just above the agents and detonated sooner than Junkrat had planned for. He’d been caught in the resulting wave of the blast, knocked up a story and through a wall. His plan had worked though, which was what really mattered! 

His comm link was all sorts of dead now, and Junkrat could hear the signature boom and whistling-clank of Roadhog using his hook chain and scrap gun in unison. Hoggy would be worried, was probably snarling Junkrat’s name through the communicator and getting silence in response. Couldn’t have that, Hog got all sorts of grumpy when he was too far to check on Junkrat himself. 

Just as he was contemplating the pros and cons of scaling down from the fourth floor of a building in his current state, he spotted Lucio in his signature bright green waving in his direction. Junkrat waved back and laughed aloud as he watched Hana emerge from the transport in her pink mech and firing into the direction Talon agents were attacking from. 

A rumble in the distance caught his attention and Junkrat spotted at least a dozen Talon agents on motorcycles closing in on the fight, their armored outfits bulky with weaponry. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” Junkrat grit out. They were already heavily outnumbered. Where the hell Talon got this many disposable soldiers was a complete mystery. Many were pre-programmed drones, but there were plenty of real people in there too. Junkrat had taken out enough of them to know. 

He watched them ride closer to the fray, roaring past his spot up in the building, and cursed again before limping further inside in the hopes of finding an intact staircase. 

It took far too long, and the discovery of an extra canister of Roadhog’s healing formula in his pocket, for Junkrat to make it to the epicenter of the fight. He used every trick he knew to stay out of sight and covered the noise of his movements with the sounds of battle. Without the mask, and since the formula was tailored specifically to Roadhog’s medical needs, the canister only did so much to heal him, but at least he no longer felt like his guts would leak out one end or the other if he took a wrong step anymore. 

He snuck up on one agent using his bike as a shield and aiming toward the three gathered around the payload. Relished the crack of his neck snapping before he dropped the body to the side. He bit at his nails as he looked around at the scene. The newest arrivals had tucked themselves away in the relative safety of alleyways and corners, adding firepower to the blockade keeping the team from making it to the transport. Even with McCree, Roadhog and Lena fighting on one side and Hana and Lucio trying to clear the way from there were just too many to simply power through. 

Junkrat slapped his palm to his forehead. Of course! The damned team near the landing was a trap! No matter which side Junkrat could have attacked from, he’d have to use his tire to get through, and would leave the other team to land a heavy blow against them. Now, he was trapped outside of the fight, with only a few hand grenades and Talon knew it. Well, they probably figured he was dead too, but that was their mistake. They’d catch on quick enough, and learn not to underestimate the ingenuity of a Junker. 

With a sharp tug on his hair to keep himself in the here and now, Junkrat looked around, considering and discarding plans that came to mind until he saw the warning symbol painted on the side of the motorcycle, where the fuel tank was located. It was the marking of a high-end fuel with barely any waste emissions. More importantly, the same chemical makeup that made it so efficient also made it incredibly volatile. Perfect.

He made quick work of strapping his grenades to the bike, clustered around the tank, and swung a leg over the seat to straddle it. He revved the engine and laughed as it rumbled to life under him. There was a curse from nearby, and a gunshot, but Junkrat had already kicked off, yanking the bike into a sharp turn as he gunned the engine. He took off with a squeal of tires as bullets whizzed past him and he shot toward his teammates with a shrieking laugh. A bullet grazed his inner arm, missing his chest by inches, but Junkrat simply sped up, running his shooter down and clearing himself a path. 

“Miss me, ya little shits!?” He screamed, cackling as another couple of agents dove out of his path and he roared into the clearing his team had made around themselves. 

Roadhog looked tense, but not too badly injured, though there were telltale streaks of blood that meant he’d likely used a canister or two to heal up bullet wounds. Lucio must have told him he’d seen Junkrat, since Roadhog wasn’t outright slaughtering agents in a fit of rage. He plucked Junkrat out of the seat with one huge hand, having caught on to his intentions, and Junkrat laughed wildly in delight despite the pain from the sudden yank.

“Fire in the hole!” 

The bike rocketed toward the barricade of agents, beginning to wobble and bounce without a rider but still upright and moving fast. The barricade of agents collapsed into frantic chaos as they tried to decide between diving away or standing their ground, so Junkrat decided to make the decision for them. With a grin so wide it was nearly painful, Junkrat held up the detonator, wiggled his fingers in a cheery greeting, and clicked the button.

This time, he was far enough away to enjoy the hot rush of air without being knocked senseless, cackling and clinging to Roadhog, who turned to shield him from the worst of it. 

McCree was shouting for them to get moving, and the team pushed forward, powering through the remaining agents now that the path and most of the resistance had been blown clear. Roadhog kept a hold of Junkrat, one massive arm curled around him. Junkrat let him, though he tried to insist to his bodyguard that he could walk perfectly well if he wanted. He may be having a harder time coordinating his limbs now that his adrenaline was draining fast, and maybe there were spots of various sizes blotting his vision, but he was just fine! Roadhog didn’t bother responding, busy dragging a gunman off a roof with his hook. 

The rest of the fight was a jostling, painful, and confusing blur until Junkrat was aware enough to find himself laid out on a bench with relaxing music pulsing around him soothingly. The bench under him was thrumming, which meant the transport was in motion and he wondered how long he’d been out. Again. This time though, there were no sounds of battle or smoke streaked skies above him, just the dull grey of the transport roof. 

A big, warm hand engulfed his own, and Junkrat grinned, finding enough energy to turn his hand palm up and curl his fingers around Roadhog’s. He got a low grunt for his effort and chuckled under his breath as a change in the music’s beat pulled him toward sleep.


End file.
